The figure moved quietly, stealthily. Her face was covered in the shadows of a long hood. Surreptitiously she glanced left, then right before proceeding up the stairs to Longinus' throne room.
When she entered the room she found herself alone. Curiously, she peered around at the hall. An ancient stone throne sat in the center by the back wall. In her father's day, King Dar, then his son Gar, had occupied the seat. With the coming of Rome, however, all that had changed. So many of the people of her village feared change. Leading sedentary lives they were content to live as their parents had. And their parents' parents. And so on. Rome meant change. It meant civilization... It meant power. In days to come even she would be powerful. A smile played across her face as she anxiously awaited the arrival of her lord.
From down the hall she heard the complaining of Diana. The only thing she couldn't understand was how someone like Longinus could have that woman as a companion. Slipping into the shadows she hid herself as the bleating woman stormed into the room.
"I don't care how important 'secrecy' was! How dare you leave without informing me!" she fumed.
"I can't completely trust you, Diana... In fact, I can't trust you at all. You've proven that to me already," the calm silken voice said.
Without looking, the woman knew it was Longinus. She then heard shuffling as if a minor struggle.
"Let go of me," Diana glowered. "I command you!"
Leaning her head slightly to watch the couple, the woman held her breath, fearing yet anticipating her master's reaction to the impudent Queen. Longinus pulled Diana to him and let go of her arms. She wrapped them around his neck and kissed him passionately. Their hungered embrace lasted for quite some time. Abruptly, the dark haired beauty let go of him, pulled away and slapped him hard across the face.
"Don't think you own me," she hissed as she walked away. He let her go.
"I suppose that means you missed me," he laughed after her.
The heavy door closed with an impertinent thud. Scanning the room with his eyes, Longinus softly spoke.
"You can come out now..."
"My Lord," she said, savoring his presence.
Smiling to himself, Longinus thought how obedient this particular servant was. Often times he wished Diana would revere him as well. But, Diana without her impetuous ways was not nearly as enticing as the real Diana. Even though little mattered to him, else revenge, Diana could still incite desire in him. Turning away from his thoughts, he redirected his attention to the cloaked woman before him.
"I have special plans for you..."
Rising she walked along side of him as he explained why he had summoned her.
"One of his soldiers is a woman named Catlin... They're very close... If you find them, bring her to me... alive."
"And Conor?"
"He mustn't be harmed... or captured." He paused for a moment. "First, though, I want you to gain their trust... it's not the speed of the capture that interests me... it is the betrayal... Perhaps you can gather information about them in the meantime... things I can use against him in the future."
"I won't fail you," she said with relish.
Smiling, he placed his hand under her chin and tilted her face to his. In a breathless moment, she thought he would kiss her. Instead, he let the smile slide off his face and sneered.
"You'd better not," he said with a darkened stare.
Pushing her away he turned to leave the room. In that moment she was frightened of him, but only for a brief moment. Bowing again she regained her composure. He turned back to face her.
"Thank you, my Lord."
He waved her off and she slipped into the shadows once again. After all... it was what she did best.
Snap. In a flash Conor opened his eyes. An all too familiar sound cracked open the night and his dreams. A careless soldier's boot crushing a fallen twig. He had fallen asleep on watch. How could he have been so careless? Before he could unsheathe his sword they were upon them. Catlin's fitful sleep roughly shattered by Roman guards pulling her callously upright. Arms encircled him, twisting his wrists painfully behind his own back.
As the events unfolded, Conor could recognize an uncanny heightened awareness. The smell of the smoldering campfire; dying embers burning in the wet wood. Crickets chirping away in blissful unawareness. The hollow sounds of each vile Roman shout. A light mist had rolled in and the pre-dawn hours threatened rain.
Focusing on her eyes Conor quickly tried to plot a way out of their dilemma. He could tell by Catlin's own intense gaze that she was working on the same problem.
Surprisingly the guards, after their initial orders during the capture, remained silent and made no move to tie the captives up. They simply held them where they were and waited.
It seemed an eternity before the sound of approaching footsteps broke the unearthly tableau. The man came from behind Conor. Although he couldn't see his approach, he knew who it was. Mirrored in Catlin's face was a stone cold expression. The planning of moments before gone. Her eyes took on a look of hatred and resignation.
Longinus.
He walked past Conor without even turning to look at him. Moving in behind Catlin, Longinus draped his right arm across her shoulder and around her neck. He held her wrists with his left hand. Catlin struggled, but to no avail. Conor knew first-hand the supernatural strength the immortal possessed. The guards fell away as their leader took the prisoner. They were no more than an arm's length away from Conor when Longinus let go of her wrists. Seizing the opportunity, Catlin almost broke free. Longinus brought both of his hands to her throat and slowly, painfully began to choke her.
"No!" Conor yelled. "Stop this! It's me you're after."
The only response was the Roman's haunting laughter. Catlin's arms went instinctively to her neck, trying to pry the hands apart. Her eyes began to loose focus as she succumbed to the inky darkness closing in on her. At the last instant, her arms reached out and touched Conor's face, lingering for a precious moment, then fell away as she collapsed. Longinus let go of her and she fell to the ground, limp and lifeless.
As quickly as the guards had set upon them, they disappeared leaving Conor to pull her up into his arms. He gently rocked her back and forth, refusing to believe she was dead. Trailing his fingers across her cheek he whispered desolate apologies.
A glimmer of white teased the corner of his eyes. He glanced up, his tear- streaked face finding a vision he did not fully believe. It was Claire. White light bathed her and she seemed to simply hover in the air. She was as translucent as water, but her presence filled the night.
"Let her go, Conor," the apparition spoke.
"...Claire - what... why are you here?" he managed.
"She's gone... she's gone, like I am."
"No..." he sobbed, rocking Catlin in his arms.
"You failed us both," the ghostly Claire said, without malice. "Now let her go."
Conor clung tightly to Catlin's body.
"Please, Claire..." he begged as the spirit drew nearer. "Please..."
Conor no longer controlled his arms. Inexplicably they let go of Catlin. Claire picked her up as if she was a child and started back into the woods.
"Claire, come back!" he yelled, unable to move. "Claire!"
But it was too late. Cradling Catlin, she vanished into the mist.
